


Long-Distance Call

by masongirl



Series: The best laid plans [12]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: (discussion of them), Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bickering, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, POV Toye, Phone Calls & Telephones, Prosthesis, Suicidal Thoughts, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: Joe attends his cousin's wedding in California without George. They finally finish a long overdue conversation on the phone.
Relationships: George Luz/Joseph Toye
Series: The best laid plans [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682071
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Long-Distance Call

**Author's Note:**

> A little insight into George's feelings.

When George told him he couldn’t come to California, Joe almost called his cousin to excuse himself from her wedding. He has never been a wedding enthusiast, and going alone sounded like excellent fodder for those few determined female relatives who still think - or hope - that George is only a phase, since Joe had “such a sweet girlfriend” in high school. They have no concept of bisexuality and Joe has no patience to explain. It’s the worst combination. Not to mention that weddings are gossip heaven, where everyone pries about your private life between slices of oversweet cake. The shiny new ring George put on his finger was bound to attract all the busybodies. Nevertheless, he braced himself and sat on the goddamn plane to the Golden State. He figured he’d pay careful attention and write a list of all the things he does _not_ want to do when he and George tie the knot.

Airport procedures were a nightmare with his prosthesis, even though he wore shorts so that they could see the fucking thing well ahead. They still made him go through the metal detector, which, surprise of surprises, went off with an outraged beep and blinking red lights. They patted him down, swabbed his fake leg for gunpowder traces, then hesitated for a minute or two before they did take him to a private room and told him to remove it so that they could scan it with the luggage. It made him feel terrible, and he wanted to go right back home, but he didn't want to back down from the challenge at that point.

He came to stay for four nights. His stump swelled up during his flight and hurt too much to do any sightseeing, so he bought George one of those fridge magnets he liked and spent most of his time indoors or with his family. It wasn't too bad - his hotel room is comfortable, the food is okay and the TV works - but his bed is cold and empty and he regretted coming at least six times by now. That one tearful hug from his cousin wasn't worth it. The only thing that bore him more than the bachelor party was the actual ceremony, with the weeping grandmas and those saccharine vows. He kept thumbing the smooth curve of his ring and all but barfed from the unimaginative sentiments he heard. Some people try way too hard to be funny and original. He'll have to talk George out of writing their own vows because it was torture, like being the hostage of an energy vampire.

The reception went as expected. Joe stuffed himself so full he thought he would fall into a food coma, because as long as he was eating, he didn't have to participate in the conversation at his table. But he couldn't evade it all night. Soon enough, all the old ladies who didn't dance started making their rounds around the room, working the rumour mill, and it didn't take too long until they discovered his ring. He wished he could get his leg back for just one night so that he could escape to the dance floor. Some people wanted to hear about the proposal, he told them the vague anecdote he rehearsed earlier, others asked if he liked this wedding, he lied. Then someone wondered out loud about how much George must love him, and Joe couldn't help but hear the unsaid implications. _If he still wants Joe despite what happened._ Stuff like that brightens a man's day, right? He remembers that he went really quiet at that.

One of his aunts, who's notorious for meddling, put a comforting hand on his elbow. "Joey, sweetheart, you must know that you don't own that boy anything."

Joe froze. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I'm just saying that you don't have to go through with anything you don't want."

"Jesus." He gaped, struck speechless. How could anyone think he didn't want to get married? It was his dream ever since he kissed George for the first time in the uni library, for Christ's sake. He stood up. He was fucking done. "Excuse me. I'm leaving."

That was an hour ago, and he's now back at the hotel, fresh out of the shower and feeling lighter than he's been since his plane touched down. He'll be home tomorrow. Lying on his fluffy mattress, he lets his left arm flop above his head and rests his hand on his brow. The ring presses against his ever-deepening frown lines. He calls George.

"Hey. Was I right?" George picks up after the second ring. He sounds perky even though it must be past midnight over there.

Joe closes his eyes and smiles. In the darkness, he can almost pretend George is with him, not thousands of miles away, probably cuddling with a dozen pillows. "Yes. They had four white doves."

"I knew it!"

"Why did Babe send me a crying emoji and an offer to get drunk together?"

George laughs, delighted. "I called you my ex-boyfriend. I'm waiting for him to ask what happened before I tell him you're my fiancé now."

Warm contentment floods Joe's heart. He shifts the hand on his forehead back and forth. "This isn't how you announce an engagement."

"No, this is how you mess with Babe." George's voice sounds like his goofy smirk. "How did Miss _'Mother Teresa'_ take it?"

Joe's thoughts darken. "She's deranged."

He doesn't even want George to hear it. He knows some people keep questioning whether he loves George as much as George loves him, and it hurts. Implying that undermines all the hard work he puts into rebuilding his self-esteem, because it suggests it's an achievement or a sacrifice that George didn't leave. It suggests Joe should feel guilty.

He sighs, banishing that idiocy from his mind. "There were too many fucking guests, Georgie."

George chuckles. If they were together, he'd probably kiss Joe's cheek about now. "You party animal."

They fall into silence. Joe thinks of their own wedding plans and he knows already he'll have to fight to keep the guest list as short as possible. He would ask George to elope, but he knows George wants to share his happiness with the whole wide world. Joe will give him as much of that as he can bear. 

"I hope you know she's not invited to ours."

"That bad, huh?

"Yeah." Joe sighs. "Some things they said made me think though."

"Yeah?"

He can't pinpoint why, but he's nervous. Maybe he shouldn't bring it up now, should wait until he's back, but how could he insert this into another conversation? He would just let it go, most likely. He would let it stay unsaid as he did in the past year. Every time he brought it up, George deflected, and he let him. He does own George something - to finish this discussion.

"We never really talk about how you felt about… everything." He starts, then clears his throat. It's still difficult to say it sometimes, but he needs to if he wants George to take this seriously. He'd just brush it off with a joke otherwise. "The amputation."

George's tone turns brisk. "That's because there's nothing to discuss."

Well, that didn't sound good. "A guy at the reception asked me how you took it and I could barely answer."

"What do you expect me to say?" George's voice rises. Joe can't see it, but he knows how he looks when he talks like this, he can imagine the distressed hand gesture he makes. Fuck, he didn't know it would still be such a sensitive topic.

"I don't know -"

"Well, me neither." George snaps. "And _of course_ you're doing this on the phone so that you don't have to look at me."

"That's not how it is."

"Yeah? How is it then?"

Joe feels himself clamming up, withdrawing into himself. "Forget it."

"You can bet I will." George mutters and the line disconnects. He hung up.

Joe frowns at the screen. It's not like George to lash out. Was it truly that bad to ask this way? No, he doesn't think so. Something must have happened. Perhaps the project that kept George from coming doesn't progress as well as he hoped. Before Joe could decide whether to call back immediately or let George cool down, his phone starts ringing.

"Sorry for raising my voice." George sighs. "I had a bad day."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"Just work."

Joe hums. From the way George said it, he knows it's not just work and he also knows George will start talking sooner if he lets the silence linger instead of asking questions. He waits, and sure enough, George continues after ten seconds of nothing.

"This is the first time since it happened that we spent more than two days apart."

Joe turns to lie on his left side and pulls his pillow to his chest, thinking of George doing the same. He looks at the room and realizes he's on his half of the bed. His lips curl into a faint smile. "You miss me."

He expects a joke, but George doesn't answer with more than a weak chuckle. "George?"

"I feel like shit." George mutters. "I had some dark thoughts."

"Dark?"

There's a long pause before George's answer. "It's so quiet without you. There's no one to talk to. I wish I could have put this project on hold to go with you." George's next words are muffled. "I don't like being alone."

"I know."

Joe thinks of their lives, of the places George lived in, and he realizes with a jolt that George has never been alone in a flat for more than two nights. All his life, he's been surrounded by people, rowdy siblings and flatmates and then Joe. Even during Joe's two-week hospital stay, people frequently stayed until late in the evening or even slept there. He has never been on his own for long. What would have happened if Joe went through with his darkest thoughts?

"I'll be back tomorrow." He tries to convey some reassurance through the call.

"It's stupid, but I just couldn't stop thinking that this is how it would be forever if you…" George bites it off and fakes a casual voice. He must be tired, because it's not sincere enough to fool Joe. "Anyway, as I keep saying, I was fine. Let's go to sleep."

 _"Bull-shit."_ Joe draws the syllables out for emphasis. "I know it was tougher than you show it. I was terrible to you."

"That's not true."

"I felt so ashamed today." Joe admits, digging his fingers into the seam of the pillowcase. "When that guy asked me how you coped. I didn't know. All these months, I've been so full of self-pity that I forgot I wasn't the only one grieving."

"I don't want to talk about it." George says softly.

"All right."

The silence falls around Joe like a heavy net of apprehension. He can feel that George's on the verge of opening up, so he waits, watching the shifting city lights glowing behind the curtains. He needs to know why George pushes him away from this subject whenever it comes up. Is it to protect him or to shut his own feelings away?

"I kept thinking I wasn't enough." George starts. He's quiet, and in the dim light, it feels almost as intimate as if he was in Joe's arms. "Because I couldn't make it better. Jokes won't bring your leg back." He makes a bitter noise. "I felt helpless and constantly exhausted."

"You ran yourself ragged."

"No wonder I got the flu that Christmas." George loves Christmas and he always gives the best presents. Not even being feverish and pumped full of cold sachets could stop him. What a year that was.

George takes a deep breath. "I was so tired that when you told me how bad it was… When you wanted to end it… I almost told you I would do it with you. Together."

 _"George."_ Joe gasps, horrified. His thoughts race, back to that chilly autumn day, back to the bathroom, to their desperate embrace. He wishes he could tell the George who held him as he fell apart that it wouldn't be long and everything would be okay.

George starts rambling. "I didn't really want to, it was just a reflexive thought, a feeling, I guess, because things hurt and I missed you and it felt like I was losing you, you know?" His voice cracks at the last word, but he composes himself. "You were breaking down and I couldn't stop it. I was thinking I would jump off the roof with you if that kept us together."

Joe pinches the bridge of his nose to keep the sorrow at bay. He didn't notice it was that bad. "I wish I had asked you sooner."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"I haven't felt like that ever since." George stresses. "And Lip helped me. He's the best friend I could have ever asked for."

Oh. Joe didn't consider that possibility. So that was the stuff Lip helped with, soothing the memory of those dark months. Joe's jealous for a completely different reason now. "I'm so sorry."

George sighs. It's a little irritated. "See, this is why I didn't tell you. I don't want you to be sorry. It's not your fault." He pauses. In the silence, Joe tries to repeat those words in his mind, that he's not guilty, that it's not his fault. It more or less works. "Joe?"

"I'm here."

George's voice softens. "I've never been happier in my life than I am now. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"That shit is in the past. It's over. Case closed." He says, and Joe smiles. He wonders how many crime show episodes George binged while he was away. "We made it through."

Joe exhales. "Promise you'll talk to _me_ next time, not Lipton. He isn't your fiancé."

"I promise." George makes a happy noise, and his smile lingers in his words. "We're getting married."

The corners of Joe's lips curve up. "We are."

"I can hardly believe it." George hums. He must have snuggled deeper into the bed. "Although, I must say, my current cuddle partners are much comfier than your bony chest."

"Good luck making out with them." Joe replies drily, and they both laugh.

"Good night, Joe." George whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too. See you tomorrow."

"Today."

Joe chuckles and ends the call.

* * *

His plane lands around sunset, fifteen minutes late. As it sways in its descent, Joe tracks the ray of sharp orange sunshine that walks back and forth on the walls. He follows it to the window and watches his city and the sky above it, the fading blues and purples, and the darker shades of dusk carried on the clouds. He breathes relief.

It takes less than a minute to find George in the sea of people waiting at his gate. He's facing the other way, caught up in a cheerful discussion with an elderly lady Joe has never seen in his life, but Joe would recognise his hair and the shape of his body anywhere. As he makes his way over, the woman George's entertaining raises her eyes and gives Joe a smile. George turns, still talking about one of his ridiculous airport stories, but the words taper off in his mouth as soon as he spots Joe. He breaks into an ear-splitting grin.

"Hey." He says and throws his arms around Joe's neck to hug him tight. Joe holds him around the waist and kisses his cheek. His smile is so wide it hurts. As always, he feels a little thrill when George steps back and links their hands together, obvious to anyone who cares to look.

"Joe, this is Iris. She's waiting for her granddaughter." Of course. Trust George to make a new friend while waiting at the airport.

Joe raises his free hand to greet the woman, and she smiles again, reaching out to squeeze George's forearm and wink. "He's very handsome indeed."

Joe ducks his head. Something about getting praised by older women makes him flustered - a habit from his childhood, maybe. After Iris wishes them the best and leaves, Joe reaches into his pocket and pulls the souvenir magnet out. George grabs it and traces the details with a fingertip, thoroughly inspecting it before looking up again. He beams.

"Thank you!" He presses his soft lips to Joe's for a quick kiss, then takes Joe's suitcase. "All right, you may be better than my new pillow after all."

Joe groans as they start walking towards the exit. "You bought another one?"

"I was lonely."

"We have more than enough."

"It's a cushion, okay?" George protests as they reach the automatic doors. "And I don't have that many, because we gave most of them to a charity, remember?"

"And you keep looking for new ones to make up for the loss."

"This is the only one I bought."

The evening air is sweet and warm as they step outside, bickering. Joe shakes his head and suppresses a smile. It's good to be home.

_~End~_

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback is appreciated :)


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